Last Call

Last call. For real this time.

You say that every night.

Tonight it’s true. Lease is up. Tomorrow this is a phone store.

No.

Yes. They’re keeping the sign. Calling it “Sam’s Mobile.”

That’s horrible.

That’s what I said. Then they told me what they were paying for the sign.

Six years I’ve sat on this stool.

I know. I keep it open for you. People try to take it. I tell them it’s broken.

It’s not broken.

I know.

Where will you go?

Don’t know yet. Somewhere with a stool. What about you? Where will you go at eleven o’clock on a Tuesday?

Home, I guess. Like a normal person.

You’d hate that.

I would hate that. Sam. Can I ask you something I’ve wanted to ask for about five years?

You can ask me anything. The bar’s closed. Nobody’s working.

Would you want to get dinner? Somewhere you’re not on the other side of the counter?

I’ve had a reservation in my phone for five years. I just kept moving it.